


Pick a Food, Any Food

by WarmthOfRain



Series: Don't Ask Stupid Questions (or, Destiel Being Idiots) [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelically Powerful Castiel (Supernatural), Blood and Gore, But also, Castiel Has a Crush on Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Decapitation, Destiel - Freeform, Family, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Hunting, M/M, Murder, Nightmares, Original Character(s), References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sort Of, They're based off my friends so, Winchesters On A Hunt, idk what else to tag sorry, there's fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:41:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29632008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarmthOfRain/pseuds/WarmthOfRain
Summary: Castiel always orders food when they are out eating. Not that the angel actually needs to eat, because, well. They don't. But Dean does. And Castiel is more than happy to give Dean his share of the portion.//Basically, some Destiel fluff and feels inbetween a hunt.
Relationships: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Don't Ask Stupid Questions (or, Destiel Being Idiots) [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994947
Comments: 7
Kudos: 81





	Pick a Food, Any Food

**Author's Note:**

> Yo peeps. This came out of a post I read somewhere about how Cas always carefully looks through menus and orders food he knows Dean will like. Also, the characters that are NOT from the show in here are based off my friends. Guys, you are now immortal. 
> 
> This is for them, Regan, Ash, Ritika and Eli. You're my favorite clowns.

Castiel’s finger stops at another line, the obnoxious red colours in a checkered pattern looking back at him.

He supposes that it’s a play on words and a take on the checkered flag which is used to start a race.

 _Checkers and Rally’s_. 

It would also explain why Dean was not at all complaining about eating here, considering his extreme obsession with anything on wheels, but the amount of burger choices they offer must have something to do with it as well.

As per usual, Sam just rolled his eyes, an indication that he doesn’t really care where they eat but that he’s also fed up with Dean’s unhealthy eating habits. 

Castiel’s getting better and better at reading the brothers.

His finger taps the line, slowly trying to understand.

How can there be boneless wings? Aren’t wings the part of a bird that most certainly has bones? And what if the bones are taken out of the wings? Isn’t that just chicken fillet?

It makes no sense to make a whole new dish out of it, but seeing that Dean’s already ordered a plate - _As an appetizer, c’mon_ \- Castiel turns to the combo meals section.

_Smoky Barbeque Bacon Buford Combo_

And, just as he suspected, as the angel gazes upwards, he sees Dean mouth the exact same line, eyes widening and a smile adorning his lips. All signs point to the fact that Dean has already made up his mind. 

Sam seems to think so as well and when Dean takes another few minutes to look through the rest of the menu, Sam snorts and says “Dude, you’re going to get the greasiest and baconiest thing on it anyways, I think you had made up your mind before we even stepped foot into this place.”

Dean rolls his eyes and plays innocent. “So what if I had?”

“Baconiest is, not to my knowledge, a word.” Castiel says helpfully. 

Sam gives him a side-eye. “You don’t say.”

Castiel’s head tilts to the side. “My apologies, I didn’t know you didn’t want me to speak.”

“No, Cas,” Sam sighs, rolling his eyes yet again, “That was sarcasm. I know baconiest is not a word.”

“It should be,” Dean chimes in, eyeing the picture of a greasy mess on the plaque in front of him.

Castiel gives Sam a suspicious glance but inquires no further into the invention of this new word and concentrates on picking a meal.

It’s not like he needs to eat. But, it would be sort of suspicious, if he doesn’t. 

He could just order a coffee. Or any other drink, to not look awkward while the two other men on the table eat.

But he’s come to realize that picking food is vital, in these endeavors into many various fast food chains. 

He most certainly won’t eat it, but Dean most certainly will.

Castiel has come to understand that Dean appreciates the fact that he doesn’t have to live with the guilt of ordering ‘too much’ food for himself, making Sam mock him for eating too much and getting flabby. 

Castiel orders, obviously not consuming it, and Dean takes it with a shrug of ‘ _can’t let it go to waste, can we?_ ’ and Sam gives his signature eye roll.

That’s how it is and how it has happened every single time.

Castiel turns the menu to single meals, not combos. Since Dean already plans to order one, he can’t possibly consume another one. 

_Deep Sea Double_

Now this one is definitely a play on words, Castiel realizes. He knows that a burger doesn’t always have to have the patty made from beef, but it can also be chicken and to Dean’s great dismay, fish. 

_A burger should never have fish in it, that’s just an abomination_ , is what Dean always says. Castiel quickly disregards the burger with two fish fillets and his finger stops at hot dogs. 

_Chili Dog_

Castiel knows Dean likes hot dogs, and he also enjoys chili. Would he find the combination of the two satisfying?

He eyes the man, who’s now playing with the napkin holder and successfully knocks it over, almost spilling the small figurine of a cook, carrying a barrel full of toothpicks. Dean glances towards the restaurant staff, to make sure no one saw his mishap and replaces the napkin holder as it was.

Castiel feels a tug at his lips and suppresses it quickly, when Sam taps on the table.

“Cas, you ready?” his long hair is even longer than usual and he refuses to let either Dean or Castiel give him a haircut (Castiel is actually very okay with that, since he doesn’t know the first thing about cutting hair). 

They fall to his face and he impatiently moves them away to get a look at Cas.

Castiel only has time to nod, when the red-haired waiter is back.

“Okay, guys, what can I get ya?” She’s chewing gum, her red lipstick a little smudged at the edge, but her hair is beautifully drawn up, covered by a bandana, that’s knotted at the top of her head.

She’s wearing the uniform, as bright red as the menu; a dress with a checkered apron and Castiel sees the nametag - _Ritika_.

She’s definitely beautiful and Castiel tries not to pay attention when Dean gives her his most flirtatious smile and says “We sure are, sweetheart.” 

Ritika smiles politely and jots down Sam’s spicy chicken sandwich and a diet coke (Dean snorts but doesn’t say anything because at least it’s not a salad, or that’s what Cas thinks goes through the hunters head), then Castiels hot dog and a regular water and then Dean’s order of the boneless wings, the combo and a regular coke.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything else with that hot dog? We’ve got great fries, cheesy ones and bacon ones, and even sweet potato fries,” the waitress aims her question at Castiel, batting her eyelashes and the angel can detect a southern note in her voice.

She leaves her hands leaning onto the table, seemingly wanting to get closer as she speaks and Castiel tilts his head up a little, managing a shy smile. “Um, no thank you, just the hot dog is fine.” 

“Well, if you change your mind, just let me know, handsome.” she winks and turns on her feet, swaying a little as she walks.

Dean snorts and it’s something between amused and disapproval. “I think you got game, pal.” 

Castiel’s head tilts to the side. “What game? Like twister? I can assure you, I don’t own any games.” 

Sam laughs, short and low. “He means the waitress was checking you out, _handsome_.”

Castiel stares at Dean, confused. “Oh. She was?” he can’t help but have the incredulous tone, because usually - no, quite often- it’s Dean who gets all the smiles and winks.

“Mhmm,” Dean humphs and then says, “Should totally ask for her number.” 

The angel observes the tight line on Dean’s face, but other than that, there’s nothing to indicate that Dean might not be serious. He’s smiling and his green eyes are already averted from Cas to the lamp light above.

“Or, maybe we could talk about the case now?” Sam points and Dean rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, kill the fun.” the older hunter says with an irritable tone that Castiel can detect but can’t place.

“Um, I think that’s _you_ that’s killing the ‘fun’, Mr. Grumpy. What, disappointed that another waitress isn’t picking you to be her one-night stand?” Sam asks, eyebrows going up and Castiel sees Dean tense.

The angel realizes that his own fists have balled up under the table and he relaxes. Dean is not his, so he shouldn’t be so concerned about hearing of his nightly conquests. 

Dean lets a hand go through his hair, about to snap back, when Ritika comes around again, smiling brightly and her heels clicking on the floor.

She sets down the boneless wings and their drinks expertly, flipping the empty tray and tucking it under her arm and then flashing a toothy grin towards Castiel.

“So, have you thought about it? Anything else you...want?” she asks and her tone is an indication of something, Castiel is sure and by the looks of Dean’s slightly reddened face, it must be an insinuation of sexual actions.

“Um,” Castiel starts, unsure how to tell her ‘ _no, thank you_ ’ in a way that she’d understand and would not be hurt, but he’s never really had to do something like that before. “I’m good, thank you.”

Castiel feels painfully cornered by her look and Sam is clearly trying to hold back laughter.

“You sure?” Ritika asks again and Castiel doesn’t understand why it’s not working - he’s being polite, smiling and making eye contact to ensure that she’d be acknowledged and ‘let down easy’. He’s seen movies about such things.

“Yeah, he’s pretty damn sure.” Dean now says, louder and a little hostile, eyes on their waitress who chews her gum and makes a small bubble, bursting it. 

She raises one perfect eyebrow at Dean and smiles at his defiant pose, one hand on the table in a fist. “Alright, just asking, tough guy. I’ll be back with your meals soon enough.”

Now, why did that sound like a threat?

Dean mumbles “Yeah, bet,” under his breath and realizes his fist is on the table, knuckles white. He relaxes it and Sam breathes out.

“Oh-kayy…” he drawles and then pulls out his laptop. “Let’s conclude what we know so far.” 

Castiel straightens up while Dean picks on the wings in front of him, taking and dipping a piece in the sauce next to it. 

Sam’s brows furrow. “Okay, so the victim, Eli Cortese, was found in a motel room, on the bed with no mattress and just the frame, arms and legs stretched to the point of dislocation and tied to the bed posts, as well as,” he says, eyeing his laptop, pausing in disbelief “the head was also um, stretched, until it came clean off.” Sam finishes slowly.

“Come again?” Dean asks, the wing stopping half-way to his mouth.

“But, at the same motel, there have been cases just like this in the past 20 years. 4 victims, 5 with this one.” Sam goes on, ignoring Dean.

“Okay, so maybe it’s just some kind of a freaky human psycho?” Dean says, licking his fingers and Castiel finds the sight fascinating. 

“Dean, there were no prints on the crime scene, all of the hotel staff were accounted for and had alibis and the windows and doors were all shut. This is a monster-related thing, I know it. Besides, I feel like I’ve read about something like this before.”

“What? A lunatic… stretching body parts for torture without being in the same room?”

“There are other cases, like I said,” Sam goes on, ignoring his brother again, “two of them had the same M.O, but the other two… The legs and arms were cut off, just over the bed frame. The victims bled to death.” 

Sam’s face is looking confused, while Dean and Castiel look towards him. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Dean asks again.

“So, there’s a monster who is killing people by either dislocating their members or cutting them off?” Castiel asks, lowly and Sam nods.

“Seems like it. But the other cases were way back...Last one was two years ago. Why would there be another one now?”

“Wait, were the others in a pattern?” Dean asks and Sam shakes his head.

“You’re right, there seems to be no pattern…” 

They are interrupted by the clicking of Ritika’s heels on the plated floor, setting down their foods. 

“Here ya go,” she seems not intimidated in the slightest by Dean’s obvious glare and smiles back at Castiel who is trying hard not to look at Dean. 

She almost leaves, but then turns on her heel, pointing at Castiel while the other hand moves to her hip. “And I get off at 6, by the way. If you’re boyfriend will allow you out to play.”

She smirks, gives Dean a very provocative glance and a raised eyebrow, before she clicks away.

Sam’s mouth is in a tight line, ready to burst out into laughter and Dean glares at him, points and says “Shut up, Sammy,” before he takes his burger and dives in.

Castiel looks down at his hot dog, a small smile pressing its way to his lips, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. 

Dean’s blushing was as evident to him as it was to Sam. 

Sam coughs. “Anyways,” he smirks, but his eyes are on the laptop,” I think we should talk to the victims sister, Ayesha Cortese. She lives just outside of the city…”

“Wonder why Eli didn’t bunk with her sis then.” Dean mumbles around a mouthful.

Sam shuts his laptop, contemplative. “Yeah, I wonder…” he takes a bite of his own burger.

Cas stares at his food and then drinks his water. “I can go talk to the sister.” 

“Um, in that piece of crap you drive?” Dean snarks and Castiel knows he has done nothing to deserve it ,so for once, he stands to protect himself.

“It’s a very respectful car. I’ve been told that this 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V is a very ‘pimp’ car.”

Sam snorts. “Cas, that’s not a good thing.”

“And who even said that?” Dean asks, rolling his eyes.

“People.”

“What, like crackhead teenagers outside on the streets?”

“I think Ritika would be very impressed by my car.” Castiel says defiantly, out of spite if anything, and gets the expected reaction.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you just take her with you then.” Dean snaps.

“At least she won’t call my car crappy. I consider that thoughtful.” 

Dean sputters and puts down the burger. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, for the love of-” Sam starts and waves a hand between them, “don’t start this again or I’ll ground you both.”

“I’m a millions of years old celestial.” Castiel says to this, like that would be explanatory enough as to why Sam can’t possibly ground him. Other than him being a grown man, sort of. His vessel is. 

Sam opens his mouth but another waitress passes by, so he shuts his laptop quick, while Dean mumbles something under his breath and finishes his burger.

“Okay, why don’t I go with Cas and you,” Sam points at Dean who now has a smudge of ketchup on his upper lip, “can go to the motel, see what you can get out of the manager. They must have some records on who stayed in the rooms or something.”

Castiel nods, leaning back now, while Dean seems to be accepting this arrangement begrudgingly. 

Sam, finished with his own food, looks very satisfied. His hand goes over to Castiel, where the angel is sitting next to the hunter, and reaches for his food.

Very quickly, Castiel says, “What are you doing?”

Sam’s hand stops and Dean looks up.

Castiel feels like he needs to clarify himself, but Sam’s eyebrows rise way up.

“You don’t eat, Cas, last time I checked. Or has that changed?” Sam asks, obviously not aggressive like Cas might’ve come off as, but simply curious. 

Castiel’s lips form a tight line for a minute, before he says, “No, that has not changed. It’s just that,” he pauses while sneaking a glance at Dean, who averts his eyes but can’t hide the small smile and Castiel goes on, “Dean usually eats mine.” 

“A tradition we should uphold.” Dean chimes in, like nothing happened and the air around them did not turn awkward for a moment. He grabs the plate and unceremoniously bites in.

Castiel detects Sam’s smuggish smile but ignores it - Dean hums happily and Castiel counts it as a win. Even if Dean called his car a piece of crap. 

But, when Ritika comes off to collect the payment, Dean’s upset demeanor makes a comeback in the form of a half-muttered threat and vague hand gestures.

Sam pays, trying to hold back a laugh, while Ritika smiles at Castiel, before moving behind him to reach out to the plate in front of him, that Dean had shoved there. 

She makes an effort of catching Castiel’s attention, one hand sliding onto his shoulder before she bids them goodbye and leaves the ever so cheerful ‘hopefully see you soon, handsome’ in the space between them.

Dean is an alarming shade of red and Castiel stares at him, not really understanding why, but knowing that's not a good sign.  
Sam seems completely oblivious, smiling as he orders them out and talks over on what they’re supposed to be doing. 

Dean is muttering something and Castiel finally says, “What?” a little too aggressively.

The hunter is taken off guard, startling and going with a confused silence. Castiel rolls his eyes. 

“So we’ll meet back at our motel, then?” Sam asks Dean, now obviously trying not to burst into laughter. 

Dean flips him the bird and throws a “Yeah, yeah,” over his shoulder. 

Castiel watches him go with some remorse, but when Dean’s in the car, putting Baby into gear and driving past, his eyes still find the angel, quickly averting when he sees Cas staring back, as if he wasn’t planning on giving him a ‘one last glance’ but couldn’t help it.

Castiel smiles and gets into the driver seat of his evertrusting ‘pimpmobile’, as Sam dubs it once inside.

//

“I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Cortese, but we have just some elaborative questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

Ayesha Cortese, the sister of the late Eli Cortese, is the younger of the two, about 24, Castiel guesses. 

She seems apprehensive, when Sam and Cas introduce themselves as FBI agents, as people usually are when they go with this cover. 

“I don’t understand-” she starts and Sam goes into the rehearsed monologue of ‘why the FBI is taking over’.

In the meanwhile, Castiel looks around the house. It’s small, at the end of a not so good looking street, the wallpaper peeling off here and there. There is a dying plant at the corner next to the TV, where an infomercial is playing. The carpet beneath their feet has seen better days.

There are tons of pictures, though, around the living room. Behind the couch Sam and Ayesha are sitting on, are pictures with who Cas guesses are friends and family, even a small Pomeranian dog.

But no pictures of her sister. 

“Can I ask you… Why didn’t your sister stay with you? I mean, you live just a 10 minutes ride away from the motel she stayed at.” Sam is saying and Castiel tunes back in. 

Ayesha’s lips tighten, hands on her lap are fidgeting. 

Castiel knows immediately that she’s about to lie.

“There’s just not much room around here with me and my boyfriend,” she smiles, the gesture not reaching her eyes and Castiel steps closer.

“There’s no sign of a boyfriend.” he says bluntly and Sam gives him a side-eye.

“What are you, the boyfriend police? He’s out right now.” the young woman snarks and Sam jumps in.

“He didn’t mean anything by it, Ms. Cortese.”

“There are no pictures of said boyfriend here,” Castiel ploughs on, “But there are plenty of people who I’m guessing are friends and family. But no sister either.”

Sam is now looking around as well, clearly noticing the same. 

Ayesha's hands twist. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.” Her voice is now aggressive and she stands. “In fact, I’d like you to leave.”

“Ms. Cortese,” Sam starts, but Castiel cuts in. 

“Your sister was decapitated by being stretched until her head and limbs came off. I think everything you can tell us is relevant.” 

Sam gives Cas the greatest bitchface of all time, then mouths ‘dude’, behind the whitening Ayesha.

Her lips tremble for a second. “I- that’s not-”

Castiel’s head tilts as she observes the woman. He stares right back at her, as she gapes at him and then Sam, as if caught between a crossfire.

“She was a druggie!” Ms. Cortese finally bursts out, spluttering and her face apprehensive. 

Sam seems mostly surprised, but he also exchanges a look with Castiel, which prompts Cas to ask, “So you didn’t want your sister to stay with you because she was a drug addict?” 

Ayesha gives an exasperated sigh and her hand goes to her messy hair. “I- Obviously I didn’t approve when she- and I don’t want her to bring that here! We had a huge fight about it the last time and I just-” 

“I see.” Sam quickly interrupts. “We’ll, ugh-” he eyes Castiel, “I think we’ve got everything we need, thank you so much for your help, Ms. Cortese.”

When they’re out again, Sam sighs, obviously not pleased. “Nice and tactful there.” 

“I thought we were here to get information, not be tactful?” Castiel says quite tactfully in his own humble opinion.

Sam pulls another face and they get into the car. “Well, at least we know why she stayed there. Maybe there’ll be a connection to… her habits, somewhere.” 

“What, like whatever this is only kills drug addicts?”

“We’ve seen weirder things.” 

With that, they pull back onto the highway, Cas getting another lecture from Sam on how to be more respectful to the feelings of the deceased’s families. 

He tunes it out after a few seconds.

//

Dean steps into the Atticus Motel with a weary mind, mainly because he knows very well what occurred here. Still, the motel is open, which shouldn’t actually come as a surprise, considering the state this small town is in.

The streets empty and the only income here, probably, are travelers.

The hallway is lowly lit, the floor a sandy colour and the walls of the same tone, but with black figures dancing on it, like those pots and things from Greek mythology, depicting gods and stuff.

Dean’s not the history geek, though, that’s Sammy’s job.

He reaches the reception table, touching the dusty bell there with one finger gingerly. 

A younger woman comes up, her hair tied into a ponytail, short and eyes as wide as her smile she’s wearing. 

“Hi! How can I help you?” she says straight away, settling behind the counter and looking up, expectant. 

Dean slaps on his best smile. “Actually, I’m from the FBI.” he says, flashing his badge, “Agent Seger. I was wondering if I could speak to the manager?”

“Well, of course. Although, you already have,” she says ever so sweetly, her eyelashes fluttering and leaning over the counter slightly. 

Dean’s confused for a moment, but then the woman points the pencil in her hand to herself and Dean gives a slightly awkward chuckle. “Oh, you’re the- well, nice to meet you.” he reaches a hand and she takes it.

“Regan Damas.” she says and flashes him a smile.

Dean smiles right back. “Pleasure. I’m here about the-”

“Murder, yes, terrible business. I’m afraid I can’t help you, agent. I’ve already spoke to police and the FBI, so I really don’t see-” 

Dean waves a hand, “Yes, I realize, Ms. Damas, but we’re just following up some leads and I have only a couple of questions, won’t take long.” 

He stares at her, smile in place and leaning onto the counter casually and Regan’s smile widens. “Well,” she drawls, hand tipping over the counter, fingers moving and brushing the sleeve of Dean’s coat, “I suppose I always have time for handsome agents.” 

Dean thanks his charm once again, and sits down on the couch in the hallway with her. She’s definitely too close.

“Um, so,” he starts, when she doesn’t stop staring, batting her eyelashes at him, “Any other incidents like this happen here?”

“You mean murders?” she laughs, and it’s not particularly unpleasant, but there’s something eerie about it, the sound bouncing back from walls. Her long red nails go to her chin as she supports herself on it. “I’ve been manager for just a handful of years and nothing like this has ever happened here, no.” 

Dean stores this away. He knows she’s lying, because Sam had said the last incident was two years back.

“Wait, now that I think about it,” she suddenly puts up a finger, frowning, “There was an incident about a year and a half… now, two years back.”

Dean deflates. “Oh? Something as simple as murder had slipped your mind, then?” he tries for sarcasm with the right amount of charm.

Regan delivers another laugh. “I wasn’t in town. One of my workers, Tony, had the reins at the time. I was taking a vacation, so I wasn’t in for two weeks.”

Dean nods. “Right. What about the room they stayed in. Was it the same room as Eli Cortese stayed in?” 

She scoots closer, smiling brighter now and pulling a thinking face, “Hmmm,” she hums, hand skimming on the couch between them, “I don’t think so. Sorry, I have awful memory.”

“What about records?” 

“Don’t keep those,” she says, her smile almost predatory. Dean swallows.

“That’s a weird way to run a motel.”

“It’s a small town. Nothing ever happens.”  
“Not from what I’ve heard.”

“Oh? Pray tell, agent,” she drawles out, moving closer and Dean can almost feel her breath on his face, “What horrible things have you heard then?”

Dean feels a shiver down his spine. Something’s definitely off with this motel. He quickly gets up, just as Regan’s hand moves towards his leg. “Um, thank you, for the info,” he says, bumping into the table as she smirks, licking her lips, watching him go.

“My pleasure. You don’t need a place to stay, by any chance? We’ve got great reviews. I take good care of my customers.” She says, with pure innuendo in her eyes and Dean chuckles nervously.

“I’m good. Thanks for the, ugh, offer though.” 

“Suit yourself. Take care now, agent.” 

Her eyes, almost glowing in the dark light, follow Dean out and he swears he could feel them even when outside in the sun, leaning over his Impala.

He can’t shake the feeling that they’re missing something.

//

“So we’re still at square one?” 

Castiel watches as Dean leans back on the chair, hands going to his face, rubbing it. He looks exhausted and it’s not even 9 p.m. 

He and Sam usually go to sleep around midnight or early morning, after they’ve hit the lore. 

They’ve got a long night ahead of them.

Sam doesn’t look any better, sitting on the edge of the bed, books open and eyes slowly blinking.

“Why don’t you two sleep and I’ll keep digging.” he says.

“Thanks, Cas, but it’s quicker if we all help along.” Sam says immediately, waving him off, almost knocking over the book that’s stacked next to him.

Dean stumbles over the carpet and Castiel tisks. “You’re both tired, which means you’re unproductive and of no use to the case in this state.” 

The brothers give him an insulted look, but Castiel rolls his eyes. “You know I’m right.”

The last few weeks have been full of hunts, meaning the Winchesters haven’t had a lot of sleep and it’s finally taking its toll.

“I’m not being gracious,” Castiel says, seeing Dean’s glare, “I’m being reasonable. I don’t sleep, which means I can research all night. You, on the other hand, are falling asleep while standing up.” he gestures to Dean, who opens his mouth, no doubt to protest, and knocks over his beer bottle.

Sam and Dean admit to their loss and Sam goes over to his bed, while Dean goes to shower and brush his teeth.

Castiel distracts himself from thinking about Dean in the shower by cracking open the first book he can get his hands on, sitting behind the small rounded desk in their motel room. 

Usually, Castiel goes to take a room for himself or just goes around town, finding things to do, but Sam was the one who said that Castiel shouldn’t be kicked out just because he doesn’t sleep.

Dean had reluctantly agreed and Castiel knows why.

When Dean sleeps, he’s vulnerable. And, he talks in his sleep. 

They don’t address it, but Cas has heard Dean talk in his sleep many times and some of those words are things Dean would never, ever admit to saying. 

They both pretend like those incidents have never happened.

Sam and Dean fall asleep fairly quickly - no wonder here, considering how tired they are.

Castiel stays behind the table, reading.

He reads and reads, without getting tired, but it does get tedious. He sometimes stands, looking out the window, seeing the lamp light flicker.

No ghosts appear, so Castiel detects it’s just a busted bulb.

The neon sign outside burns into his eyes. His vessel’s eyes, more like.

He scrapes the floor with the chair accidentally, but other than Sam’s small mumble, the Winchesters are unbothered by the sound.

When he leans back, legs on another chair stretched out and the clock hits 3:57, Dean stirs.

His head is moving around on the pillow, as much as Cas can see in the dark and since he’s an angel, he can see Dean’s sharp outline well. 

The hunter’s mouth is parted, but nothing but ragged breathing comes out and then, he thrashes around for a few beats, the blanket sliding away from him, half on the ground.

Dean sleeps in his sweats, which Castiel doubts he usually does when the angel isn’t around. 

Then, Dean’s low voice reaches him and it’s one word. “No.”

His voice is breaking, it’s carried to Castiel with a sense of panic and terror both, and the angel deducts that Dean’s having a nightmare.

He has them quite a lot, Castiel knows, even though he’s only witnessed a few. He does what he always does when this happens. 

He walks over to Dean, slow and steady, carefully placing his fingers onto his forehead, angel grace glowing for a split second as he soothes Dean’s mind. His forehead is covered in cold sweat, but he stops moving, face relaxing.

Castiel stares for one moment, beside his bed. The light coming from the window behind him illuminates Dean’s face only half-way. His right side covered in the glow, left side in darkness.

Castiel can see the crook of his mouth, the line between his brows. His eyelashes flutter as he dreams. His eyes go to Dean’s naked torso for a moment but comes right back up again, scolding himself.

This is probably exactly why Dean doesn’t want him here, in the night. Standing beside them like a creep. 

Dean’s face looks peaceful now and it’s hard not to look, when Castiel finds him so utterly vulnerable like this. So beautiful. 

He pulls himself away, leaning down to pick up the blanket. He lets it fall over Dean in a careful gesture, moving back to his chair. 

He’s done this plenty of times, help soothe Dean’s nightmares, or Sam’s. But this time, something happens that never has before.

“Cas?” 

Dean’s voice is rough and low from sleep, sending a jolt through Castiel, his heart thumping in his chest. Out of shock of being caught, most likely, or that’s how he assures himself. 

“I apologize if I disturbed you. Go back to sleep.” he whispers, because that’s what humans do when someone is sleeping.

Dean’s eyes slowly blink at him, he’s halfway on his elbows. “You didn’t- Wait.” Dean’s processing something, Castiel can see it on the frown on his face, “I was dreaming.”

There’s a silence that follows, where Castiel neither confirms or denies it. He’s still standing at the edge of Dean’s bed, close but somehow so far.

Dean’s eyes are on him, but it doesn’t look like he’s waiting for an explanation.

Then, “You didn’t have to do that.” Dean says, touching his forehead lightly, now sitting up. 

Castiel is amazed that Dean knows he used his grace to make the nightmare dissipate. 

“I don’t like to see you in distress,” Castiel says, matter-of-factly, but then he says “I want you to be happy.” in a much softer tone, one that involuntarily comes out now.

It’s dark in the room, nothing but Sam’s breathing to be heard and Dean’s looking back, probably only seeing the outline of Cas.

Dean shuffles on his bed a bit, forward and Castiel is immobile and suddenly, he’s scared. For what, he’s not sure.

He feels something and almost startles, when he realizes it's a brush of fingers against his own, gentle and careful. 

He breathes out, even though he doesn’t actually have to, and it’s a soft breeze. 

Dean’s hand is a bit stretched, so he can reach Castiel and Cas steps a little closer to the edge of the bed, letting Dean’s hand wrap around his own. 

He feels thrilling shocks reach from the tips of his fingers towards his arms, his shoulders, his chest, everywhere.

“Well, thank you.” Dean’s voice is so quiet, so soft, that it’s barely audible, if Castiel wouldn’t be an angel, he’d probably not heard it. 

Castiel says nothing, but it gives him a sense of courage suddenly. He squeezes Dean’s fingers for a moment. And Dean squeezes back. 

Another moment passes and Dean’s still holding onto his hand, the light outside still blinking in and out of existence and Castiel stands, waiting.

Sleep takes over Dean in just a matter of minutes, his eyelids slowly closing and Castiel can feel the fingers slip from his as Dean falls back on the bed, his head hitting hitting the pillow, just enough. 

Cas stands for another few seconds before he goes back to the table, opening a book.

His fingers tingle for a longer time than he cares to admit. 

//

“So, we got nothing?”

Sam’s hand goes over his face, rubbing it, almost as if he’s still exhausted, and Dean can relate. He feels it, too.

They’ve been up and at ‘em for so many days in a row, one good night sleep is far away from fixing it.

Dean doesn’t raise his head from where it’s perched on his hands behind the table, all the books and papers from last night still laid out on top of it. The same articles and lore and god knows what random blogs written by people who’ve got nothing better to do that Cas had been going through last night. 

Castiel, who had woken up when Dean had a nightmare.

It was almost the same one he’s had before, only a little more twisted this time. When he thinks of it, the flashing red lights, splatter of blood he can almost feel on his cheeks and the yanking, hollow feeling in his chest cavity, he slightly shakes his head, to get rid of the damned images. 

He peers towards the angel, leaning against the wall gracefully, eyes shadowed with regret and apologies, looking towards Sam carefully. 

Dean’s not sure what possessed him to do what he did last night, but when Cas had stood there, in the darkness of the room and looking so unsure as to whether Dean wanted him close or not, he hadn’t hesitated reaching out. 

Now, his fingers twitch slightly at the memory and he makes a fist with his right hand, the other holding a pen. 

“I’m sorry, Sam. I couldn’t find anything remotely related to these murders. They’re very specific, which should’ve made it easy to find the culprit but…” Cas’ voice draws to an end and Dean can hear it in his tone - the way Cas is beating himself up about it.

He’s about to open his mouth, to say to Sam that it doesn’t matter, who cares if they find the monster and besides, it’s not Cas’ fault that there’s no lore on this, but his brother is perceptive, as always.

“That’s alright. We’ll just have to dig deeper. Is there anything we haven’t checked yet? Cross-references? Any entities that we haven’t considered?” Sam asks, playing chipper and Dean grinds his teeth.

“Sam, we’ve been at this for hours. I need some god-damn coffee.” 

Castiel perches up. “I can go get it.”

Dean looks up towards him and instantly regrets it - Castiel’s blue eyes are fixed on him with worry in them and Dean feels like shit, again. No way is it necessary for Cas to worry so much about him.

“I’ll get it. I’ll run by the motel as well. What you told us about this manager’s story… Something doesn’t add up. And I feel like I’m missing something… I need to clear my head anyways.” Sam butts in, already slinging a backpack over his shoulder.

Dean swears he sees the smug bastard smile at him from the corner of his eyes, but doesn’t pay mind to it. 

“See you back here.” his brother says, when Castiel slugs back against the wall and looks even a little disappointed.

Dean feels something tinge in him at that - is Castiel really so bummed out about not getting to leave this place? Of staying alone with Dean? He clenches his jaw and stays quiet, only mumbling a goodbye to Sam.

“Don’t start squabbling again, I mean it.” Sam says last, in a very parental tone, but before Dean can retort, Sam’s gone like the wind, leaving the door to close itself in a soft click.

“Bitch.” Dean says under his breath and then finally leans back, yawning as he stretches.

Castiel is watching him and when Dean locks eyes with him, the bastard doesn’t even flinch at being caught. Dean feels his skin tingle and can’t take the silence for more than a millisecond. 

“So what else should we look at? I mean, the son of a bitch has to be in here somewhere, right?”

Cas tilts his head a little, and Dean does not find it adorable in the least bit, but when Castiel sits across from him, eyes roaming over the table, Dean watches his fingers scramble through the papers on the wooden surface.

There’s always been something about Cas’ hands, Dean thinks. They look very… capable. Well, he’s seen Cas smite more beings than he can count, but they also look like they could be gentle. His fingers move along the papers and for some reason, it’s mesmerising.

“I supposed we haven’t looked at gods yet.” Castiel says, looking up, finger tapping at a paper about _Tityos_.

“Mh?” Dean says intelligently and then looks at the angel, who’s staring at him expectantly. “Oh, right. Wait, no. What?” He says now, also a very coherent thing to say and Castiel gives him a weird look.

Did the corner of his mouth just twitch a little in a smirk?

Smug son of a bitch. Dean hasn’t had his coffee yet, he’s entitled to a little morning brain-scramble. 

“Gods.” Castiel replies and when Dean opens his mouth, Cas goes on “I mean, Greek mythology. Norse Mythology. Like Loki. You remember Gabriel, right?”

Dean makes a face. “I would like to forget.” 

He waves around the table, “I suppose that’s an option. Let’s get to it, then.”

“I can do it by myself, Dean.”

Dean stares at Cas, hard, like he’s not backing down. And he isn’t. 

“‘M fine.” Dean mumbles, pulling up a large, thick book on Norse mythology. Sammy really has everything in here.

“You didn’t sleep well last night,” Castiel starts and Dean’s eyes flicker to him, the panic rising. Is Cas going to talk about last night? But the angel continues effortlessly, gliding over the awkward tension Dean’s feeling, “You should maybe get some more rest. If we need to fight tonight, you should be your best self.”

“What, I’m not my best self?” Dean asks, smiling his best smile and stretches out his hands, like he’s displaying himself.

The angel makes a small, impatient noise. “Not half-dead from sleep deprivation, you’re not.”

“Gee, you look great too, Cas.” Dean says and ignores the way he thinks that’s the truth.

Castiel’s blue eyes don’t leave Dean as he says in his low voice, “Go to sleep, Dean.”

“Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second of all, oh no wait, that was it, Mr. I bet that cute waitress would like my car.” He has no idea why the hell that came out of his mouth but it’s not like he can back down now, so he pushes his jaw forward defiantly and opens the book with a bang on the table.

“You thought she was cute?” Castiel asks out of the blue, might add, and Dean’s head snaps up. He feels cornered by those glowing eyes, like they’re an x-ray taking a scan of him and enlisting all the flaws and secrets for everyone out to see.

“Did you?” Dean counters because his brain has nothing else to say.

“I-” Cas frowns, like he doesn’t know if he’s being tested, “She looked very pretty.” 

Dean ignores the monster raging wars inside of him, something as ugly as jealousy raising its head. “Great.”

“Is that a problem?” Castiel now asks, leaning back and studying Dean like he’s a goddamn piece of a map or something.

“No, Cas, that’s not a problem. You’re allowed to think people are pretty for fucks sake.”

“You brought it up.” Castiel observes quite intelligently. 

Dean’s already sorry he did. “Can we just get the hell to work?”

He doesn’t pay Cas much mind for a few minutes, waiting to hear if the angel has a witty reply, but nothing comes. Dean tries not to be too disappointed.

It’s not his fault that he feels...not indifferent towards Cas. Duh, he’s family. But no one asked the angel to come along with his magical curing hands and heal Dean from his recurring nightmares. No one asked him to- to be that compassionate and caring about Dean’s wellbeing. Completely smothering him with it.

Yeah, Cas should totally back off.

Dean thinks about the food Castiel ordered and declared that it was for Dean. Not for Sam, but for Dean. His heart, the bastard, betrays him again and does a little flip at the memory.

He sighs, peering up from his book. Cas is just turning the page, eyes on the writing, utterly concentrated.

The angel’s been paying attention to human behavior too much, obviously, his tongue sticking out a little as he reads. 

It’s absolutely not adorable.

Dean gets up, just to stretch, because the letters are literally floating in front of his eyes now, and gets a glass of water. He almost asks Cas if he wants one, but remember he’s a god-damn celestial being who doesn’t need to drink or eat.

Dean’s watching Castiel from the where he stands, the angel’s side-profile a little hunched in the uncomfortable chair, hair sticking everywhere and the little frown on his face. And out of nowhere, goes with, “I see them dying.”

Castiel looks up, a little startled but mostly confused and Dean turns a shade of red, the embarrassment creeping up on him, but clears his throat. He’s already started, might as well finish. 

“In the nightmares, I mean.” Dean gestures with his hand vaguely, leaning onto the wall next to the sink and the other sloshes the water around in the glass. “I see them dying, over and over again. Sam, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Charlie… You.” 

Castiel’s eyes are squinted in concentration now, like he’s drinking in words and that compassionate look in his eyes is what makes Dean go on.

“It’s… different, every time. Sometimes, a monster kills ‘em. Sometimes it’s angels. Last night, I-” Dean feels a lump in his throat. None of it is real. Never has been. “Last night, it was me. I killed- I killed you and then went after Sammy. And afterwards, I always sit alone, in the dark, covered in blood. Whether something else has killed you, or me. Always covered in blood.” 

He should stop talking, why is he even saying this to the angel? But Castiel is getting up now, approaching him like Dean’s a sleeping lion, ready to wake and tear him to pieces at any given moment.

Dean feels like an absolute shithead. 

“They’re just nightmares. That would never happen, Dean.” Castiel’s voice is soothing, even though Dean feels like he wants to break something. “You have saved Sam more times than I can count. And everyone else. You love them, they are your family. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you will always look after your family.”

Dean looks up, he realizes his hand around the glass is shaking, drops of water falling onto the carpet and he wills it to stop. Castiel is just a few feet away.

“Yeah, I know.” Dean says, and when he breathes out, it’s like there’s a burden there, something he can’t lift on his own. “They’re just… seem- feel very real, ya’know?”

He doesn’t dare to look Castiel in the eyes, but then something happens that he couldn’t anticipate.

Cas’ fingers are under his jaw, raising it up and meeting his eyes. When the fuck did he even get this close?

Castiel’s fingers linger on his jaw when his other hand goes to take the glass from his hand, setting it on the counter next to them and Dean doesn’t know what to do.

His mind tells him to pull away, because what’s happening can’t possibly be right, but he stays put. He’s nailed in place by Cas’ blue eyes boring into his and his finger on his jaw and his hand, now slightly touching his glass-free hand. 

“They are not real.” Castiel’s voice is soft, like a breeze washing over him and Dean lets it. God be damned but he lets it because suddenly, he feels how tired he is. And he doesn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

“This,” Cas says, his hand dropping and Dean instantly misses it, but the angel's other hand goes to his own, gently nudging at the knuckles and sliding against his fingers, “This is real. _We_ are.” 

Dean’s fingers twitch, the warmth of Castiel’s hand makes him want to curl them around his fingers, hold his hand just like he did last night. Did that even happen?

He clears his throat, effectively breaking whatever scary and albeit wanted spell Cas has him under, and looks up with a crooked smile. “Yeah, I know, I know.” 

He pulls back a little and Castiel’s hand draws back. His eyes look sad, he averts them and Dean instantly feels bad, again. It’s not like he wants to walk away. But.

Still, he looks towards the angel and when Castiel looks back, Dean is once again struck by the blueness of them. How can they be so blue? So transparent? 

He moves to go past Cas but as he goes, his hand involuntarily (or maybe voluntarily) brushes Castiel’s as he says, “Thanks, Cas.” 

And he feels a little better when Castiel allows a small smile on his lips. 

He’s so preoccupied about thinking of making Cas smile even more, that he stumbles against the table, knocking a bunch of books down and one of them lands on his toes.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean lets out as the searing pain reaches his foot and he immediately grabs his toes and awkwardly hops on one foot, while Castiel makes a concerned noise and comes closer.

He immediately steps his foot down and feels his face flush in embarrassment, though he doesn’t even know why. It’s just Cas, after all. 

The angel approaches him. “Dean, are you…?” his voice fades out, looking down on the ground but Dean holds up his hand in dismissal.

“I’m fine, just not looking where I’m going, is all. Cas?” The angel has been staring down at the ground for like a minute now and Dean steps closer gingerly, his foot still aching from the damn book Cas is eyeing.

“Dean, I think you found it.”

“Cas, what are you on about?” Dean asks, when Cas pulls up the thick book, pages open from almost in the middle and points at it. 

“This. A demigod.” Castiel says, laying the book down on the table. It’s pages are yellowish and the swirling letters are in cursive here and there, some of them in capital letters and a picture of a man, upper half of his body naked and the lower covered in a short cloth, one hand wielding what looks to be a hammer. 

“What, we hunting Thor now?” Dean asks, bewildered but Castiel shakes his head, finger going to the book, reading the lines.

“Thor is not half-god. He is a god. But this, Procrustes, he’s a demigod.” The angel says and Dean moves closer to him, next to Cas so he can peer at the pages.

“...’ _Known as a rogue smith and a bandit descending from Attica, Procrustes attacked people passing by the Mount Korydallos, where he placed his victims on an iron bed. Wanting to make them fit, Procrustes used his smith’s hammer to stretch the people to fit or chopped off the limbs that wouldn’t._ ’ Well, that’s not gross at all.” Dean reads out loud, hand moving on the pages as he traces the lines. 

“So any passers-by? That’s why there was no connection between the vics?” he muses now, thinking, but Castiel shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but we need to call Sam, he’s on his way there, remember? We need to prepare ourselves.”

“So wooden sticks dipped in lamb blood?” Dean is already calling Sam, while Castiel goes to their bags, rummaging through them.

“It should suffice…” Castiel trails off when Sam answers the phone.

“Sam, you’re on speaker.” Dean places the phone onto the table, but before he can go on, Sam interrupts.

“Oh, hey, guys. I was just about to call you, I think I figured out what it is-”

“Yeah, a demigod. Procrustes, to be exact. Likes to play house with real people, only seems as though none of his partners actually ever fit the marriage bed.” Dean snorts and catches the wooden stick Castiel throws to him, the other staying in the angels hand.

“How’d you figure it out?” Sam sounds mildly surprised and Dean rolls his eyes.

“You’re not the only smart one, Sammy.”

“Dean stumbled onto the table and a book fell on his toes, opening on the exact page on the lore of Procrustes.” Castiel says, almost monotone and Dean sends him a glare. 

Castiel mouths, ‘What?’

“That’s very smart of you, Dean.” Sam teases.

“Haa-haa. How’d you figure it out, then?” Dean changes the subject and Sam ruffles around, he must still be in the car. He’d taken Castiel’s, because Dean’s said it a million times - if there’s a choice, no one drives Baby unless it’s him. 

“Atticus. That’s the name of the motel.” Sam says, grunting like he’s reaching for something. “And I remembered that Procrustes was descended from Attica. Seemed like too big of a coincidence. My money’s on the manager.” 

Dean remembers the weird feeling he’d gotten when talking to the motel manager. The shivers and the eerie feeling of hair standing on end at the back of his head. “But she’s a woman.” he says dumbly and Sam sighs.

“It’s a vessel, most likely.”

“Sam,” Castiel interrupts, “Have you got a wooden stake and lambs blood?”

“Yep, got the stake,” Sam says and that must’ve been what he had been reaching for, “But I haven’t got any blood. How fast can you-” 

There’s a rustle and then they hear Sam grunt and a bang, like something hitting the door of a car and then a shatter of glass.

“Sam?” Dean shouts into the phone and steps closer. “Sam!?”

There’s silence and Dean looks up, locking eyes with the angel.

“Let’s go,” he says, before he grabs their gear and heads out the door, heart pounding like crazy. 

//

They see Cas’ car parked right outside of the motel, the door hanging open. On further inspection, Dean finds the broken car window and a splatter of blood.

Sam’s phone is lying on the floor of the car, almost under the front seat and the screen is displaying missed calls from Dean. 

Dean pockets it. 

They go in like they always do, Cas going first because evidently, he’s an angel and not much can hurt him.

Even if Dean did fight against it at first, even he had to admit that it was only tactically logical and so now Castiel steps into the motel, a stake covered in dripping lambs blood in hand and peers around the corner.

It’s quiet and there’s no receptionist. 

Castiel’s eyes go over the walls here, a yellow paint with black stick figures dancing on it. He can recognize many of the stories depicted here.

Hercules fighting the Nemean Lion.

Prometheus bestowing fire unto the human race.

The Argonauts and their perilous journeys across the seas of Mediterranean.

Procrustes wielding his smith’s hammer.

He stops short of the next corner, hand going to stretch back and Dean bumps right into it so Castiel displays it there, keeping the hunter back.

“Cas? What-” 

But Castiel raises a finger, to shut him up and strains his ears. He’s sure he heard something. 

He looks back for a moment and sees Dean’s wide eyes on him. The green is laced with slight panic and fear. Fear for his brother.

Cas nods towards the stairs and takes point again, creeping upwards.

“I don’t get it,” Dean whispers, as they climb the steps, “If she’s the one killing them all, how come she had an alibi?” 

Castiel peers up the staircase and continues on the second floor. A scratching sound comes from their right.

“Maybe, she had accomplices…” he whispers back and sees Dean’s face scrunch up in concentration.

“She mentioned a guy… Tony, I think. That when she was away, this Tony dude was managing the place. Maybe he covered for her?”

Castiel peers around the corner and opens his mouth to say that, yes, probably it was the Tony guy, just as a man swings at him with what seems to be a long and heavy sword.

Cas ducks and kicks him in the back, making him stumble forward and right into Dean, who grabs his arms and yanks them behind the guy.

“I’m guessing you’re Tony.” Dean tells him, a victorious smile on his face, when they hear a scream.

And it’s unmistakably Sam. 

Castiel’s eyes go to Dean, he nods and starts towards the door again, when Tony knocks his head back with a snarl and Dean’s nose bleeds immediately, letting him go with a grunt. 

“I don’t think you had a reservation, gentlemen.” the guy says, swinging his sword he picks up form where he dropped it and it’s clear he knows how to use it. Cas swings out his angel blade, because Tony is no demigod, judging by the aura around him and a wooden stake would prove to be inefficient against a sword anyways.

“Dean?” he asks, when Dean stumbles back a little, hand going to his nose. Another scream and Dean’s head flips towards the ceiling, where it seems to emit from.

“Go.” Castiel tells him now and Dean doubts for only a split second but Cas can see him eye the sword hesitatingly so Cas says, louder, “Go.” and Dean does.

But not without Tony swinging at him so Cas takes two quick steps and blocks the heavy sword with his own blade, letting Dean slip from the room.

“What do we have here, an angel?” Tony asks and flicks his black demon eyes to existence, confirming Castiel’s suspicions. “What might an angel be doing here with a couple of hunters?”

“And what would a demon be possibly doing with a demigod?” Castiel asks back, unlocking their blades and takes a step back to swing at the demon.

Tony steps left and avoids him, sword clashing with his blade again when he steps closer.

“A little self-preservation was in order.” he says almost casually and moves before Cas can react.

Tony’s sword flicks his blade from his hand and the hilt of the weapon collides with Cas’ face and he can feel his vessels nose and lip bleed. His eyes flick to the ground where his blade is.

“So, in other words, she caught you here and you made a deal.” Castiel snarls and Tony tisks, pointing the balde at him, while they circle around each other.

“I didn’t know angels could be so smart. Good for you.”

There’s a thump coming from upwards and shouts and Castiel is losing his patience. 

“I don’t have time for this,” he expresses his feelings and the demon’s eyebrow raises.

“Agreed.” Tony steps forward, shouting as his blade thrusts forward and Castiel raises his hands, avoiding the blade in a quick motion and hands curling around the hilt, yanking at it.

Tony’s strong, but Castiel can feel his grace surge through him as he pushes back and the demon’s eyes flick with panic for a moment. Cas raises his elbow and punches Tony square in the face and then does the same with his fist, sending Tony flying backwards while the angel grabs his blade from the ground.

Cas kicks at the sword that Tony is reaching for and drives his angel blade right through his heart, the demon screaming as he withers into nothing. 

Cas gets up, worried eyes flicking towards the ceiling as another thump and a grunt echoes and he runs, takes two steps at a time and almost bursts through the first door on his right.

Castiel’s eyes find Dean first, he’s perched up on a desk, holding onto his hand that’s bleeding excessively and is in a weird angle. It’s most likely broken. His face is glinting with sweat, nose covered in dry blood, lower lip caught between his teeth as he grimaces in pain, but his green eyes open when Cas walks in and immediately he shakes his head, but it’s too late.

Castiel can feel something behind him move and when he turns, the woman has already raised the smith’s hammer.

His ears ring loudly when the hammer strikes against his skull and sends sparks flying behind his eyelids. He can’t even feel the pain of colliding with the floor because the pain in his head is a lot louder, a lot more prominent.

“Cas!” he can vaguely hear Dean’s voice and Sam’s shouting, when his eyes close for a moment, and the manager laughs.

But his grace hums in him, through his veins and slowly but surely, he moves his hands to his head, letting them slow the pain and the damage.

When he opens his eyes again, he can stop the woman standing with the hammer in her hands.

She is wearing a uniform of sorts, a two piece suit and looks professional, if not considering the hammer she’s holding along with a murderous gaze and a predatory smile. 

Her name tag reads “ _Regan Damas_ ”

Castiel snorts a laughter at that, as he props himself up, swaying slightly and leans against the wall.

In the middle of the room, there’s a bed, just an iron cast of it and on it is Sam. His hands and legs are spread and tied up to the bed posts, his legs dangling over it and his head propped up on the wall behind him. 

“Cas? Cas are you-” Dean’s stumbling towards him but the woman, Procrustes no doubt, raises her hammer.

“Uh-uh. I would not do that.” She says, her hammer hovering over Sam’s head, who’s jaw is clenched and his eyes staring wildly towards Dean and Cas, flickering between them.

Dean stops in his tracks. 

“Damas,” Castiel starts, his voice a little gravelly, so he clears it, “As in Damastes? One of the many names you have.” 

Procrustes’ eyes stare towards him, a smirk evident on her face. Her hair is tied up but some strands are on her face and there’s a small scratch on her cheek that’s bleeding. Dean must’ve done at least some damage.

“Figured it out, did ya? Unlike this dummy here,” she nods towards Dean, who gives her a glare even Cas would cower under, “Literally showed him around the motel, the paintings, everything. Told him my family name. Nothing, nada. What are you made of, sawdust?” her laugh is shrill and unpleasant and Castiel grits his teeth at it.

His eyes go about the room and notices the wooden stake on the floor. Dean’s. 

His own is still in his trench coat. 

Castiel’s eyes go to Dean, when Procrustes speaks again, moving closer to Sam. “Ah, you’re one of my favorites. I mean, I’ve heard about the Winchesters of course, but I never imagined you being so tall. It’ll be fun, I’m sure.” 

She smirks, her hand going to Sam’s jaw and he pulls himself free of her grasp. “Go to hell.” he says through gritted teeth and she laughs again, her hammer swinging in her hands.

“Why are you doing this?” Dean asks, pulling her attention to himself. 

Cas’ eyes flick from Dean to the wooden stake behind her again. It’s not far.

Procrustes’ hammer leans onto Sam now, right on his foot as she lets her body pressure force it down. Sam makes a painful noise and Dean winces.

“I’m Procrustes. Damastes. A smith from Attica,” she laughs at the irony as she gestures to the motel surrounding her “This is what I _do_.”

She snaps her fingers, as she takes the hammer off Sam and the taller hunter breathes out in huffs and Castiel almost winces when he sees the pain in his face.

“By the way,” Procrustes continues, “What did you do to the demon?”

“Killed him.” Cas says blankly and Procrustes makes a face.

“Pity. He was useful, sometimes.”

“The other murders. That was you too, or was that him?” Dean asks, leaning onto the desk again, his face scrunched up in pain. His hand is bleeding more than it was before and Castiel is positive if he’d move his hand, the bone would be visible.

“My dear boy, of course it was me. I got the alibi by letting Tony lie for me and fake my accounts and credit card bills at a farther away motel. The police were getting suspicious so I had to start covering my tracks,” she makes a bored face as she speaks, sitting next to Sam on the bed. “And when a demon wandered into my motel, well. I couldn’t resist.” 

“You made a deal so he would cover your tracks and you’d get to keep on killing. In return you spared him his life.” Castiel clarifies and props up further. His eyes are on the woman but he’s already pinpointed how much time exactly it would take him to get to the stake.

Procrustes gives them a wide smile, getting up. “Bingo. And, I don’t mind more company, but you’re kind of ruining the vibe. So, if you wait your turn I promise it’ll be quick. Well,” she seems to consider her words, “quick for this one.” she nods towards Sam.

“Just the legs and heads chopping, though the sword was with Tony so I guess a hammer will have to do. You two,” she points at Dean and then Cas, “Are obviously too short. Takes more time with the stretching and all.” 

Her conversational tone doesn’t change throughout as she raises her hammer above Sam’s head again. “Sleep tight,” she smiles brightly and Sam’s eyes widen.

Cas moves towards the stake and Procrustes catches his movement, swinging around and the blow directed at Sam swings towards him and hits him directly onto his side, making him scream out and fall to the floor, right next to the stake that’s out of reach.

“Well, that was stupid,” she smirks above him, hammer raised.

Castiel’s hand goes around the stake inside his coat and he takes it, tosses it to Dean who catches it with precision of a hunter and drives it through her chest from behind, having moved over the floor while Castiel distracted her.

“Not quite,” Castiel rolls over and grabs the other stake, getting up and stabbing her through the heart from the front. 

Procrustes screams and the light that pours makes Dean shut his eyes, while Castiel twists the stake for good measure. 

She falls to the floor and Dean’s eyes stare into his.

“Nice teamwork.” He beams at him and then, he steps over to him and Dean’s good hand goes around Cas. 

As they hug, Castiel can feel Dean’s other hand shaking against him. “Dean, your arm…” he starts, but the hunter shakes his head.

“M’ fine. Lets get Sammy.” 

Dean goes towards Sam, who sighs, head falling back as Dean untangles him from the bed. “Took you long enough.”

“Hey, if you’d have just told us you’re into freaky shit in the bedroom, we’d known she was gonna come after you,” Dean gets a death glare from Sam and he laughs, then winces.

“You alright?” Sam asks as he sits up on the bed, rubbing at his leg and Castiel steps up.

“Fine, your leg okay?” Dean asks, his good hand going to touch Sam’s right ankle. 

“Dude, it’s likely a sprain, your whole arm is broken.” Sam scolds, getting up and reaching out.

Dean waves him off. “Not that bad.”

“I can see the bone, Dean.”

“Awesome, right?”

Sam makes a face and Castiel grabs Dean unceremoniously.

“Hey!” Dean lets out and winces when Castiel’s arm closes around his, but a blue glow of light later, his arm is back to normal, his bloody clothes the only reminder of the broken bone. 

Dean looks up and his green eyes shine. “Thanks,” he mumbles and Castiel can feel the warmth emitting from the hunter.

His fingers let Dean’s arm go and Sam coughs.

“Lets go?” 

Castiel raises his hand, “I can fix your sprain.” 

Sam shakes his head, hair moving like there’s wind in them. “Nah, I’m good. Doesn’t even hurt.”

After taking a step, a yelp later Sam succumbs to Castiel’s healing process after which they all go downstairs again and stand on the curb.

The sun is shining and the warmth feels good on Castiel’s skin. He lifts his hand, feeling the smeared blood on his face.

“I could do with a shower.” Sam says, just as Dean says “I could eat a burger right about now.”

Sam scoffs and rolls his eyes affectionately. “Let’s get back, shower first and then eat?”

“I’ll follow you then.” Castiel says.

Dean’s hand lingers on the Impala’s door, like he wants to say something. His mouth is even open, but then he nods awkwardly and gets in.

“See you there,” Sam tells him, his smile a little pitiful and Castiel wonders why.

He wonders all the way back to the motel they’re staying at.

//

Castiel eyes the menu suspiciously, but this isn’t the first time they’ve entered a small bistro with questionable looks and got delivered the best food in town.

Well, so Sam and Dean say. 

The paper is rough on the edges, a little yellow and some of the words have faded. The pictures look like they’ve been taken out of a 70s commercial. 

The angel’s finger hovers over desserts, when he hears Dean say “I’ll have the bacon-egg sandwich, fries on the side and a coke, please.”

His fingers still grip the menu while his eyes turn to the waiter, who is clicking his pen nervously. He looks about 16 with a scrawny look and ginger hair. There are freckles on his nose, though not so much as Dean has. 

Sam orders a salad and a smoothie and the boy looks towards Castiel. 

Cas is sitting right next to Dean. Their thighs have been touching for the better part of the time they’ve spent in this booth and Sam’s pretended not to notice.

Even Castiel pretends not to notice, because what if he stops pretending and then makes Dean all uncomfortable again? 

Dean’s eyes flicker to him and they are full of soft warmth, the sunlight from the horrible drapes barely getting through to make them shine and Cas has the urge to move them, to let the light shine on Dean just a little more.

Dean’s wearing his dark-green flannel, the white shirt underneath clinging to his body and Castiel’s eyes almost, almost don’t notice because they fall onto Dean’s lips instead.

That’s the part of Dean that’s by far the most interesting one to the angel, the curve of them is so elegant somehow. They always look inviting, even when Dean’s eyes don’t.

“Um, sir?” the boy’s voice cracks a bit and Dean suppresses a smile.

“I-” Castiel starts and then looks straight at the waiter. “I’ll have a slice of apple pie, please.”

“Ice cream?” the boy asks and Castiel nods.

“Yes, thank you.” 

When the boy leaves, Dean is staring at Castiel. His mouth is slightly parted and there’s a questioning look in his eyes, just a small frown on his forehead.

He looks absolutely gorgeous right now.

Castiel allows himself to smile and averts his eyes to the table, because slightly out of his peripheral vision, he knows Sam is smirking at them and he doesn’t need to see that. 

Dean’s hand on his own thigh twitches and Cas notices. 

He’s pretty sure what happens next is unintentional. 

Dean’s hand goes up a little, like he’s adjusting in his seat and his hand falls next to Cas’ on the seat, their pinky fingers touching. 

Cas feels his heart thump in his vessel, it’s going faster than when they were chasing Procrustes not even two hours ago. 

And then, what happens is definitely intentional. 

Dean’s hand covers his half way, his thumb gliding over the back of Cas’ hand.

The angel freezes, eyes still locked on the menu like he’s reading it, even though he could tell by memory now how much the special house cocktail costs and what’s in it, by amount. 

Sam is talking about the ride home and how he can’t wait to just go for a run and Dean announces his absolute disgust for that and Castiel smiles.

He smiles because he’s surrounded by family and Dean’s hand on top of his is warm and he can enjoy that.

He lets himself enjoy it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey-yooo fellow Yees and Haws!
> 
> This was a long one, phew. I'm sorry. But if you liked it, theeeenks. Leave a Kudos, if you dare.
> 
> You can also find me on:  
> Wattpad: WarmthOfRain  
> Instagram: warmthofrain  
> Twitter: rain_warmth  
> Tumblr: malecbaby 
> 
> Peace out bitchessss *throws peace signs*


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